He did WHAT?
by GoldenRoya
Summary: Viceroy Aral Vorkosigan reacts to some surprising - nay, shocking - news from home. Set after "Captain Vorpatril's Alliance," with MASSIVE spoilers thereto. Do not read if you have not read.


_WARNING! WARNING! Not to be read until you have read and thoroughly enjoyed _Captain Vorpatril's Alliance. _MAJOR SPOILERS!_

_And now that you've been thoroughly warned, I freely and cheerfully state that I own no part of the Vorkosigan-verse, I just like to play there. Many thanks to LMB, and all praise the master of mystery, the peerless purveyor of prose, that valiant and verbose vicerenne of verisimilitude, and oh, man I'd better stop now or I'm going to be in trouble..._

_Only somewhat skewed from canon, and that only discovered upon rereading the last chapters after writing but prior to posting. I hope you will forgive the lapse.  
_

_Read, enjoy, review!_

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It was a beautiful, peaceful day on Sergyar. Vicereine Cordelia Vorkosigan felt a smile stealing over her lips, watching as, downslope, a herd of hexapads galloped across the native meadows. _Hard to believe its been almost forty years_, she thought, remembering back to the first time she'd seen this view, with the Betan Astronomical Survey. Her eyes stole to her husband of nearly as long. _So why does it seem like only yesterday?_ she wondered, grinning to herself.

"What's got you so cheerful this morning?" Aral asked, sliding his hand about her waist and giving her a kiss that was too lingering to be perfunctory. He, too, was remembering the early days of their unconventional courtship, it seemed.

"Mail's come in," she replied, touching his face gently.

He parted from her with reluctance, scooping up the discs with the encoded tight-beam messages. His eyebrows rose minutely. "That's unusual. Gregor's sent two." He immediately retreated to his office to begin listening.

Cordelia sighed and picked up the messages addressed to her. "Hm," she murmured to herself in surprise. Alys had also sent two messages, one official and one marked _Personal, urgent_. Interesting.

Her comconsole had been acting up recently; last night Cordelia had finally turned the thing off in a fit of pique. Perforce, she had to wait while the dratted thing rebooted itself.

Over the sound of minute fans starting and the grinding of internal computations, Cordelia couldn't help overhearing the muffled voices from inside her husband's study - Gregor's, of course, but also Aral's muttered replies. He stoutly denied talking to himself that way, but Cordelia found it endearing. Thus it was that she was tuned in and listening when his _sotto voce_ mutters suddenly rose to an incredulous, "What do you mean he _sank ImpSec?!_"

_Oh dear. _Cordelia gave in to curiosity and entered the room. Gregor's image was flickering as Aral rewound the message a short ways. "What has Miles done this time?" she asked with a resigned sigh.

"Miles?" Aral looked confused. "Nothing. I don't think. Why? What did Alys say?"

Cordelia wrinkled her brow. "But you just said... What about ImpSec?"

Light dawned in her husband's eyes. "Ah. No. That idiot Ivan managed to sink the Imperial Security building. To the roof. I take it he didn't mean to, and it wasn't a one-person job, but he had plenty of help from his damned in-laws, and I don't know _what_ Gregor was thinking to let _that_ unruly bunch have free run of the capital. 'Let's see what happens,'" he mimicked sourly. "_That's_ what happens, your majesty," he grumbled. "Chaos and disorder and -"

"Ivan's got in-laws?" Cordelia asked, incredulous. "That would imply marriage. When did Ivan get married?" Suddenly that _Personal, urgent _had a much higher significance. "Alys must be simply over the moon."

Aral suddenly realized that he'd let the message rewind almost to the beginning. "You'll find out for yourself soon enough," he said, "and for once, Miles was planets away. No possible connection between him and this little... snafu." He grimaced and hit the play button.

"...Ah, Aral," began the Emperor in his 'I'm your foster son so this concerns us both and the empire too, drat it' voice.

"He knows I hate it when he does that," Count Vorkosigan grumbled, but let it play on.

"It seems we now have a level street down by ImpSec. Quite level, in fact, and it seems we've your nephew Ivan to thank for it. Well, him and all his pack of Jacksonian-Cetagandan inlaws, but there you go. I trust the precis that follows from Lady Alys will more than sufficiently cover you on the social side of things. ImpSec, ah... The former Imperial Security Headquarters are now most secure. The only way in, in fact, is by drilling down through the roof - a tricky business, all told, given the truly diabolical booby traps our lads have managed to set off. Incidentally, those gargoyles are _not_ just for decoration." Gregor's face twisted a little at that, whether in sour contemplation of a bad job or a solemn man trying not to show deep amusement.

"No, I'm afraid that I have to report that Ivan, er... _sank_ ImpSec. All of it, as a unit, and nearly got himself, his wife, and his various relations squashed in the meantime. Ah, I say Ivan - that's unfair, that idiocy took a committee. Not quite a _Counsel_, but a committee, definitely. Simon, I'm surprised to say, has confessed to having a hand in the scheme, helping it along in some small way. And, ah... thanks to what Lord Vorpatril..."

Aral paused that and looked at Cordelia with raised eyebrows. "When was the last time Gregor used Ivan's title?" he asked.

His roan-haired wife shrugged. "Must be something marvelous, keep going!"

"...discovered there, I am pleased to say that the Empire's financial woes have taken an unexpectedly happy upturn. The historical treasures division even more so, and the histories department have all filed their immediate requests for temporary leave so that they can examine all the loot in thorough detail. I've lost one Imperial Auditor to all of this - mostly at his wife's request _he_ claims, and my head of Komarran Affairs tells me that his subordinate of six weeks' training can do the job as well as he would and could I grant him leave, sire? After observing Duv trying to read some of the discovered documents both upside down and backwards _through _the plastic tub they were found in and starting to drool on my carpet - this in the middle of an interview and while I was speaking, note - I began to see his point. Knowing this stash was being opened and knowing that he was not there _would_ have left him functioning at a decided disadvantage. He is heading up the newly formed Historical Committee, return to regular duties pending emergence from data fog. We are not quite certain when that will be; in the meantime, his subordinate has been performing adequately.

"It has been decided that those of principal involvement need a nice, long retreat away from Barryar. Ivan will need at least two years, I think, until the situation cools down, whereas Lady Alys and Simon will finally be taking that long vacation he kept moping about. You remember the map he used to keep, behind his desk where he thought no one would know? Pins for known dangers, pins for known peace, pins for potential problems, and..."

"...pins for everywhere he hadn't heard of, and so was probably a good place to get a drink," Aral intoned with Gregor.

"Galaxy-hopping," continued the emperor, "was always his dream. And, so, the good fairy has granted him his wish. Though I never thought the fairy might look like Ivan..." His voice trailed off in horror. His hand twitched toward the cutoff, but he had evidently changed his mind because there was no telltale flicker in the holo of the message having been paused and restarted. "I'm sending Ivan and his bride to you for the first leg of their trip, before turfing them off to some minor embassy at the other end of the wormhole nexus. I trust Aunt Cordelia will be more than satisfactory in coaching them through some very-likely-interesting couple-firsts. My thanks, and condolences, though I trust she will undertake it as a challenge.

"All the further details are enclosed, read them at your leisure. I'm particularly interested in your response to the possibilities for the dirt-eaters, whatever they're called, mycoborers? Anyhow, good luck and thank you, Viceroy Vorkosigan. Gregor out."

"My," was all that Cordelia could say when it finished. She eyed the _Pe__rsonal_ disc in her hand with intense curiosity. "I'd guess we'd best start to prepare for guests. Aral?"

Her own best love was still staring at the dark comconsole, muttering under his breath. Cordelia leaned in to hear, then stifled a laugh as she crept back out into the hall, leaving him to it.

"Ivan you idiot... ImpSec, hell. How did you manage to land a wife from Ceta _and_ the Whole? _AND_ keep it a secret from Lady Alys while you were courting? And I thought _my _romance was whirlwind... All I can say is, boy, you had better unpack..."


End file.
